the breakfast was getting ready; when it came, Mr. Perker came too.
"Aha, my dear sir," said the little man, "nailed at last, eh? Come, come, I'm not sorry for it either, because now you'll see the absurdity of this conduct. I've noted down the amount of the taxed costs and damages for which the ca-sa was issued, and we had better settle at once and lose no time. Namby is come home by this time, I dare say. What say you, my dear sir? Shall I draw a cheque, or will you?" The little man rubbed his hands with affected cheerfulness as he said this, but glancing at Mr. Pickwick's countenance, could not forbear at the same time casting a desponding look towards Sam Weller.
"Perker," said Mr. Pickwick, "let me hear no more of this, I beg. I see no advantage in staying here, so I shall go to prison to-night."
"You can't go to Whitecross Street, my dear sir," said Perker. Impossible! There are sixty beds in a ward; and the bolt's on, sixteen hours out of the four-and-twenty."
"I would rather go to some other place of confinement if I can," said Mr. Pickwick. "If not, I must make the best I can of that."
"You can go to the Fleet, my dear sir, if you're determined to go somewhere," said Perker.
"That'll do," said Mr. Pickwick. "I'll go there directly I have finished my breakfast.
"Stop, stop, my dear sir; not the least occasion for being in such a violent hurry to get into a place that most other men are as eager to get out of," said the good-natured little attorney. "We must have a habeas corpus. There'll be no judge at chambers till four o'clock this afternoon. You must wait till then."
"Very good," said Mr. Pickwick, with unmoved patience. "Then we will have a chop, here, at two. See about it, Sam, and tell them to be punctual.
Mr. Pickwick remaining firm, despite all the remonstrances
